1234
by elise50
Summary: Drabbles and ficlets based off the words: spaghetti, list, pillow fight & sexting.
1. Spaghetti

**A/N: I wrote these a couple of years ago for a friend's birthday. I decided to share them with people on this site. I hope people enjoy them.**

She's never been one for the cliché anniversary set-up. Rose petal trails, candle lit dinners, champagne glasses; none of the typical love mantras were her, or them for that matter, but this well known fact doesn't deter her appreciation of the elaborate display hidden behind their apartment door.

Callie sticks near the doorway allowing herself to take in the full view of Mark's attempt at romance; brows knitting closely as her eyes encounter various red rose packed vases, randomly decorating the tables and kitchen counter top. She fights the groan just about to emerge when she spots the giant plush teddy bear resting on one of the dining chairs.

Finally, she gently pulls the door closed behind her, hooking the keys on their holder before making her way through the room. She chuckles lightly, dropping her bag and leather jacket on one of the vacant chairs beside her. Slinking toward the table, Callie tenderly skims a fork with her index finger, smiling at Mark's freakish ability to fold dinner napkins to perfection (an odd trait he tended to bring out anytime they shared a meal), glad that there's still a bit of her eccentric manwhore somewhere in the overdone celebration.

Quietly passing the spectacle, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and makes her way into the adjoining kitchen. She reaches in the cupboard for an empty glass, she needs a drink; of water, of scotch, of anything that might help her swallow this version of her living room area. While sweet, the gesture is completely off base for what either of them usually enjoys.

"Are you freaked out yet?" She finally hears him yell from the bedroom.

"What?" Callie replies, pushing off the counter and meandering toward the hallway.

"If the roses and the dinner table didn't get to you, I knew the stuffed bear would." She rolls her eyes as he snickers wildly behind the closed bedroom door. "The real party's in here."

"The real party?" She asks, edging the door open to find Mark Sloan grinning back at her, lying stark-naked on their bed, one arm folded underneath his neck, the other balancing a bowl of leftover spaghetti on his stomach.

"Happy Anniversary Torres."

She shakes her head in amusement, but wastes no time in ridding herself of her own garments and joins him.

A little bit of food, a little bit of laughter, and a lot of sex has been all they've ever needed to make any occasion special.

That, and each other.


	2. List

"Would you ever have sex with Derek?"

Mark groaned, throwing his head against the pillow behind him as soon as the question spilled from his lips. Callie turned in his direction, clutching the blouse she'd been searching through the closet for.

"What?" She asked looking over her shoulder with furrowed eyebrows.

"Where do you want to eat?" He mumbled, staring up at the ceiling, hoping this question might mask the other he'd just asked.

"What did you ask me?"

"Where you wanted to eat."

"No, about Derek."

"I didn't-" Mark glanced toward Callie, catching her tiny smirk and amused expression. "Would you have sex with Derek?" He spat out, quickly averting his eyes.

Callie giggled, advancing forward, stepping between Mark's legs, letting hers hit the mattress. She threw her shirt onto the chair beside her and preceded to crawl onto the bed, settling herself over Mark's body. He sighed as she pressed a knee between his thighs and dragged a thumb across the stubble on his jaw. As response, one of his hands flew to her lower back while the other pushed strands of hair away from her face.

"Where is this coming from?"

Mark met her eyes for second, then shrugged. It was the least he could offer her without getting ridiculed for turning into an insecure woman. They laid in silence while he unsuccessfully tried to disguise his curiosity with a calm, cool demeanor that he was sure she easily read through. "Well," he began casually, allowing his fingers to drift softly along her spine, "would you?"

"I don't know," she teased as his index finger grazed her temple, glancing off to the side momentarily before turning back to grin down at him. "Would you?"

"No!" He answered hastily, pinching one of her thighs when her laughter filled the room. Regaining composure, Callie rested her forehead against his. "I don't buy into the whole McDreamy thing. He seems a little…delicate for my taste." Mark smirked, gripping her tighter. "Plus his hair's so damn perfect it's scary. Besides, McSteamy's a little more up my alley."

"Yeah?"

"You'd win that contest any day of the week," she grinned down at him, winking for effect.

Smiling, he raised his head slightly and pressed his lips against hers gently, but much like any other time, their easy rhythm instantly turned frantic as Callie took control and deepened the kiss, pushing herself against him. Soon enough Callie had been flipped on her back with Mark resting between her legs.

Hands running underneath his shirt and up his back, she sighed as he feasted on her neck. Dropping lower, Mark grinned finding an all to familiar pair of black panties hugging Callie's hips.

"What about Brad Pitt? Angelina Jolie?" He snickered, lowering his head to slide his tongue along the elastic of her underwear, waiting to hear what flaws she found in the media pillars of perfection. And just how much they failed to measure up to him.

"At the same time? Or individually?" She chuckled, tightening her grip on the white bed sheets.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, hooking his thumbs into her undergarments. "Would you?"

"oh-Definitely."

"What?"

"What?"

"Definitely," Mark grumbled, unhooking his thumbs before lifting himself from the mattress. He crawled off Callie and planted himself in an upright position next to her.

"What are you doing?" Callie popped up, wide eyed and slightly shocked.

"You said definitely, without hesitation," Mark groused pulling his arms tight around his chest. He hadn't exactly expected her to answer positively or with so much enthusiasm to his trivial question. Somehow, the silly scenario had unforeseeably chipped away at his confidence.

"You're kidding me right?" She glanced over at him smiling, ready for Mark to break into laughter and roll back over to finish what he'd started.

"No," he responded sharply.

"Unbelievable," Callie snarled at his seriousness and her still semi-aroused state. "You ask me a stupid question and now…there's a one in a million chance of that ever happening." Growling, she kicked her legs over the side of their bed. "Like you wouldn't."

Mark watched Callie lift herself from the mattress; her visible annoyance quickly caused him more disgruntlement.

"I want a list," he barked suddenly.

"What?"

"I want a list of people you would sleep with," Mark glared at Callie as she walked around the bed and reached for her shirt.

She laughed loudly, mocking his request, inadvertently egging him on.

"Tomorrow," he sneered, "I want to know who I should be looking out for."

"You're an idiot!" Callie retorted, pulling her panties back into place, whipping her shirt over her head. "I want one too then," she yelped, slipping her dark jeans over her hips.

"Fine."

"Fine."

They stared defiantly at each other for several seconds before Mark stood and breezed past Callie, calling a stern _we're having Italian_ over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, falling comfortably into the chair next to Mark.

"Nothing," Mark mumbled quietly, instinctively shifting further away from his friend.

Derek chewed on his green apple, curiously glancing across the table as Mark scribbled on the small sheet of paper in front of him. He leaned forward slightly, attempting to get a better view of whatever it was Mark had been writing. But as soon as he did, Mark's arm conveniently blocked his line of vision. So he casually eased back into his chair, pretending to brush off his interest.

"How was that nose job you did this morning?"

Mark looked up, narrowing his eyes at Derek's innocent smile.

"It went good," he answered cautiously, alternating his gaze between Derek's left and right hands. Once he saw his friend cup them, some of the tension in his body loosened. "Mrs. Garber'll be happy with it."

"That's good," Derek nodded slowly, then fixed his eyes on a spot past Mark's shoulder.

"What?" Mark inquired, observing the sudden scrunch of Derek's eyebrows. When his gaze failed to falter, Mark turned his head sharply and found nothing but an empty lunch table behind him.

"It's just too easy," Derek snickered holding the scrap of paper in his hand. "Heidi Klum, Cindy Crawford- what is this?"

"Nothing," Mark barked, grabbing at the sheet.

"What is it?"

"Give it back to me,"

"Tell me what it is first," Derek responded, narrowing his eyes to display his earnestness.

"Hand it over," Mark jumped across the table, reaching for his list. After a few failed attempts, he flopped back into his chair and sighed, "those are women I'd have sex with."

Derek stared blankly at Mark before kneeling over in laughter. Reaching over, Mark snatched his list and pushed at Derek's shoulder roughly.

"Shut up."

"I just…" Derek clutched his stomach, "you're serious?" He looked up to find a scowl occupying mark's usually grinning face. "I…" he chuckled again, "okay." Derek cleared his throat, trying to calm himself, "What brought this on?"

"I'm not telling you."

"You have to or I'll tell the Chief how the supply closet really got trashed."

"He won't believe you," Mark swept his hand arrogantly over the table.

"You want to find out for sure?" Derek grinned whipping out his phone. Mark, remembering the last warning he and Callie received, skipped forward stopping Derek from dialing. Callie would kill him if they really did end up suspended for a few days like promised, even if their supply closet rendezvous was all her doing.

"Would Meredith have sex with Brad Pitt?"

"I've never asked," Derek chuckled, tapping his fingertips on the tabletop.

"Would care if your girlfriend was up for sleeping with him or his wife?"

Puzzled for a moments Derek squinted, thinking about the relevance of Mark's question until he unexpectedly fell over again, laughing loud enough to catch a few people's attention. "Judging by that scowl, I'm guessing Callie said she would," he snickered uncontrollably, then cleared his throat, "I'm sorry. Okay, so this made up affair is…quite upsetting."

"Shut up."

"So this list happened how exactly?"

"I told her to make me one. She got mad and told me I had to make one too."

"Seems fair," Derek nodded with delight, still trying to contain his giddiness.

"I don't need this from you."

"Alright, alright. Maybe if you finally told her that you wanted to make whatever it is you two are doing official, she might not consider straying toward Brad Pitt," he chuckled once more.

"I'm…working on it," Mark groaned, carelessly flipping the cap to his empty water bottle his water bottle.

"What's the big deal anyway? It's not like Callie meeting, let alone having sex with, one or both of Hollywood's stars is a giant possibility."

"That's not the point. The point is she said yes."

"And you wouldn't? Angelina Jolie's on your list, along with a few other choice women and…Pamela Anderson," Derek finished with disgust.

"Pre-disaster. It's a male rite of passage," Mark shrugged, rolling the cap between his fingers.

"I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."

"You'd never get that close."

Derek rolled his eyes, "It's not like she said she'd sleep with me. But don't be surprised if she would, women find me irresistible."

Mark smirked and stood up from his chair.

"She wouldn't, she doesn't find you McDreamy. You're too delicate for her. Oh, and she doesn't like your hair." Collecting his items, he lifted his lunch tray, "but that's beside the point, it's not about who it is, it's the principle. "

"Since when do you have principles," Derek mumbled, sulking as he folded his arms as his friend moved away from the table. "My hair's amazing."

"You've seen me half naked Torres, how am I not on your list?"

Callie groaned as she rested against inside of the nurses' station counter reading through a patient's chart. She knew she'd instantly regret ranting to Cristina about Mark's stupid list. As soon as she'd finished her bursts of laughter, Cristina had demanded to see it. She commended most of Callie's choices, ridiculed David Letterman's appearance and screeched in disgust at her roommate (or rather former roommate, Callie spent more time at Mark Sloan's apartment than her actual bedroom) for tacking the lead singer of KISS on the list without having her name anywhere near it.

"Kate Winslet I get. Liv Tyler I get. Steven Tyler I get. Though I gotta tell you Torres, a father-daughter list combo is a little freaky, even for you. But Gene Simmons Callie, Gene Simmons!"

Callie looked up to find Cristina glaring at her. Before she could open her mouth to respond, the curly haired fireball cut in. "I know he's got that tongue and I'm sure it does wonders, but really Callie, do you now where it's been? Wait that's probably the wrong thing to say, I mean you're with Sloan."

Callie reached out and smacked Cristina's shoulder.

"Ow!"

Finally after a time, Cristina's arguments subsided and Callie enjoyed the calm silence. Closing her folder, she reached to grab a pen so she could scribble a few notes, but Cristina blocked her.

"Move Yang."

"Seriously Callie. He's not attractive, I might understand if you'd go at it while he wore the make up, but really? I have these."

Callie shut her eyes tightly as Cristina popped her chest toward Callie's face.

"Feel them. These babies will help me knock a few heavy hitters off the top of your list."

"Cristina!"

"Just feel them!"

Pressing herself forward, Cristina trapped Callie into a corner.

"No!"

"Just do it!"

"No!"

"Dr. Yang, I need you to prep Mr. Goldstein in 524."

Both women turned to find Derek leaning against the counter smiling.

"Fine okay. You don't know what you're missing Torres," Cristina slid out from behind the desk to leave, but not without subtly rubbing her left breast against friend's shoulder on the way out. Wincing, Callie turned back to Derek, who looked on at the situation with amusement.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly, glancing back over the countertop as her eyes searched for a pen.

"No problem," he grinned, dropping his body in the spot next to hers. Eyeing her closely for a few seconds, taking in her movements, determining which way to approach the subject, Derek finally gripped the edge of the counter and blurted his question.

"Why wouldn't you have sex with me?"

"What?" Callie shot her head up sharply, staring at him with a horrified expression.

"I'm a burly mountain man. I fish and hunt and camp out in the wilderness. I'm a," he paused to think, "a man's man. And I manage to do it all while keeping my hair looking like this," he finished pointing up at his perfectly styled mane.

"Oh my God," Callie groused, throwing a palm against her face.

"Wait, oh I know what…I get it. You didn't want to get him upset."

"What?"

"You saw how upset he was about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, so you didn't want to upset Mark by telling him you would sleep with me if the opportunity arose," Derek nodded as he built the explanation." It makes sense, of course you wouldn't tell him the truth."

"That obvious?" Callie asked offering a fabricated smile, hoping her faux response, no matter how insincere, would end the somewhat uncomfortable conversation.

"Don't worry I won't tell him. Your secret's safe with me," Derek smiled widely, sending her a wink before heading off to his patient.

"I'm going to kill Mark," Callie grunted, watching Derek skip away happily.

"What is the big deal with all this?"

Callie burst into the apartment screeching, waving a small piece of paper in her hands, and slamming the door behind her. Mark, through instinct shot up defensively, glaring straight back at her.

"Well what is it? Why did I have to do this stupid thing, which forced me to go through the day with Cristina waving everything but her vagina in my face to get on it! Why on earth do you feel the need to know about every human being that gets me hot and bothered? And why do I have Shepherd asking why I wouldn't have sex with him?"

Mark stood back, nostrils still flaring, heart racing from a combination of anger, fear, and nervousness.

"I'm not hearing anything!" She roared, slamming her jacket across the sofa and roughly dropping her hands to her hips in anticipation.

"Am I not supposed to care when my girlfriend is thinking about having sex with someone else while I'm on top of her?" He stepped closer toward her, practically yelling, jarring them both.

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yes my girlfriend!"

"Since when am I your girlfriend?"

"Since now!"

"What?"

Mark stepped back, running fingers through his hair trying to find the simplest way to express himself.

"I want you bugging me when you're bored. I want to walk in on you dancing around the room in your underwear. I want you wasting all the hot water in the shower. I want you bitching me out for groping you in front of people. I want you here, permanently. I want you to be my girlfriend."

He breathed calmly, brushing a nonexistent hair from Callie's face, watching her cheeks grow pink and her lips curl into a bashful smile. Running his hands along the sides of her body, Mark rested them on her hips just as hers went to hang loosely around his waist.

"I love you," he grinned boyishly, bringing his hands back up to pull her lips forward. Taking his time, he explored her mouth with his tongue, making sure she felt the sincerity of the sentiment. The kiss was slow, sweet and probably the most intimate they'd ever shared and as much as he wanted it to continue, he knew it would have to end eventually. Pulling away, but not without dropping a quick peck on her lips and another for good measure. "I don't want you thinking about Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie during sex."

"Oh God," Callie rolled her eyes.

"Getting you off is my job Torres," Mark declared firmly.

"Really?" Callie grinned backing him up, she gently pushing him into the sofa and crawled into his lap. "So I guess, getting you off is mine?"

Chuckling at his serious stare, she pulled at the button of his pants. Kissing around his jaw, she peeled the shirt from his body.

"You don't have anything to worry about Sloan," she rasped into his ear, grinding gently against his growing erection. "I love you too."

Pressing a small peck on his lips, she leaned back and rubbed her thumb against the stubble on his chin. Laughing, he snapped her finger with his teeth. Smirking, she hopped of him and yanked at his zipper. "And you're McSteamy, what more could I ask for?"

Groaning loudly as she freed him from his jeans and rested both hands on his thighs, Mark stared down at her.

"You're right Torres, I'm a catch. You should be grateful."

Quirking a brow, she looked down at his lap and grinned wickedly before dropping her head.

"You should be too."


	3. Pillow Fight

"You ready?" Mark glanced down at one year old Lucas Sloan, who stood calmly beside him, gripping his right leg while holding a half filled bottle in his free hand. Both stared apprehensively at the entrance of the family room, where a boom of laughter fought through the open slit beneath the door.

"I'm right there with you buddy," Mark chuckled as he felt his son's fingers curl and tighten around his calf.

Bending, he scooped up the child and extended his arm to rest against the door. He stood still for a moment, preparing to be rammed out of his element; Callie had been unexpectedly called to the hospital, leaving him the lone adult in a house that contained a one year old, a set of six year old twins and seven other girls who'd burst into his home hours earlier for a slumber party. Letting out a heavy breath, he finally found the courage to open the door.

"Daddy!" Jamie, the younger of his twins, jumped up and screamed happily, almost knocking over her drink as she fumbled toward him.

"Hey daddy!" Cassie yelped, holding a piece of pizza to her mouth.

"Uncle Mark!" Morgan Shepherd bellowed from her spot beside his daughter.

"Hey munchkins," he smiled in greeting, rubbing the top of Jaime's hair when she came to stand by him. "What are you guys doing?"

"We're not guys, we're girls."

Mark turned to the small girl in the crowd who made the comment, glaring at him as she agitatedly crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry," he offered quickly, then dropped his attention back to the others. "What are you _girls_ doing?"

"We're eating and watching a movie. Duh." The same girl answered, rolling her eyes before grabbing the slice of pizza on her plate.

"She's pleasant," he grumbled under his breath while scanning the rest of the room. To his horror, most if not all girls were dangerously close to finishing their food and all seemed more interested in his arrival than the animated movie playing on the screen behind him.

"Daddy, what are we going to do next?"

Mark groaned, shifting the boy in his arms; his daughter had just voiced the question that was now plaguing his mind. He wasn't used to keeping children entertained while he was alone, he wasn't even sure he was fully capable of handling the situation, but he had to try.

Staring out to the far wall of the room, his brain scrambled to remember the pre-made schedule Callie had rattled off before rushing out the door. Unable to piece the bits together, he raised his free arm and reached down to rub his neck. Sighing, he nervously glanced around the room.

"What do you guys want to do?"

A second later, he was bombarded with suggestions. Each girl screamed ten different things, more than half of which he didn't understand. Not able to hear himself think, he quieted the crowd. Seating his son beside one of his sisters, Mark gathered the overexcited bunch in a circle.

"Okay," he looked around at each expectant face, "I'm going to go around the circle and take suggestions."

"What's that?" One girl raised her hand and glanced at him curiously.

"Just tell me what you want to do and I'll tell you if we can or can't do it," He offered as way of explanation. Standing still, he locked glares with the critic from earlier.

"What do you want to do next?"

Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Dress up, with make-up and jewels and hair spray and I get to be queen and…"

"No," he shot out quickly, shaking his head despite the loud cheers in favor of her idea. He wasn't about to let a half a dozen first graders raid his wife's drawers and closet and do whatever it was they were going to do to their faces. And there was no way he'd let the brown haired nightmare glaring at him, be queen of their little kingdom.

Ignoring the continuing pleads and complaints he moved onto the next girl, the short curly haired happy-go-lucky daughter of Sydney Heron.

"What do you want to do next?"

"Ummm," the girl pushed a finger under her chin and smiled after several seconds. "Hide and seek!"

Mark's eyes wandered around the ceiling as he thought. He knew the game, he knew the rules and it could be fun. But the more he thought, the worse each scenario of what might happen became. He didn't need someone hiding in some uncharted corner of his house; losing a child would definitely keep him from getting laid for a good long while. That was something he'd never risk.

Dropping his line of vision back to the girl, he shook his head, "nope."

"Why not?"

Again ignoring the protests, he looked on to the next kid, a toothless blonde wearing pink pajamas and green socks. "What about you? What do you want to do?"

Clasping her hands together the girl, stuck out her bottom lip as she thought. A second later she beamed up at him. "Let's bake cookies!"

"No!" Mark answered immediately. The last time he cooked, it took two days for the house to be completely free of the smoky odor. Possibly burning down their home was not an option.

Sighing he advanced down the line. With three girls remaining, he began growing irritated. Their ideas of fun weren't coinciding with his. Crossing his arms, he waited for the next outrageous suggested activity.

"Swimming!"

"No."

Scratching his head in frustration, he glanced over at the tiniest girl of the group, Shadow Shepherd's youngest daughter, sporting bottle cap glasses and a shy smile.

"Come on Abby, give me something good. What do you want to do?"

Sitting quietly, her eyes darted around the room. Then, looking down at her rumpled shirt she mumbled her answer, "we could maybe draw."

"Draw," Mark nodded slowly. "Drawing," he said again, searching for the situation or scenario he wouldn't be able to handle or take control of. After finding none, he smiled at the girls. "We'll draw."

Turning to one of his daughters, he whispered into her ear. "I'm going to go get some paper and crayons, watch over things for me."

Standing he moved from the room to retrieve the needed materials.

Several minutes later as he walked back down the hallway carrying sheets of plain white paper and a box of assorted colored pencils, the same boom of laughter from earlier seeped through the bottom of the door.

Unconcerned, he pushed it open and stepped through the entrance.

Upon arrival, Mark's face was met with a large purple pillow. Moaning in displeasure he let it drop, allowing his eyes to travel the room. He should have been surprised to find nine girls and a boy running wildly across the room, yelling, chasing and whacking each other with pillows, but somehow the scene wasn't all that shocking.

Stopping his eldest mid stride, Mark bent to her height. "What are you doing?"

Sending him her own version of the Sloan grin, she slammed her pillow across his head and ran away.

Once far enough, she glanced at him. Shaking his head, he waited for the inevitable scream.

"Pillow fight!"

Groaning as more pillows flew through the air, Mark cursed inwardly. It was going to be a very long night.


	4. Sexting

"Your phone's annoying."

"What?" Callie asked, not really caring for an answer as she typed away on her Blackberry. Cristina looked on from behind her glass of orange juice, slightly aggravated by her roommate's chipper mood.

"It's always going off and it's always McSteamy," Cristina groaned as Callie smirked up at her. "And you always get that stupid grin on your face.," she finished, laying her head on the marble counter of their kitchen island. "It's gross."

"Whatever," Callie responded, rolling her eyes before setting her phone down and stepping further into the room. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and reached for the pitcher of cool water on the top shelf of the fridge. As soon as she held the glass to her lips, her phone began it's ceremonious vibration and loud beeping. Her hand flew for the small device, but Cristina, who was significantly closer, grabbed it first.

"Give it back Yang."

Cristina snickered, holding the phone out of Callie's reach as she began to read. Midway through the message, her mouth curled into a frown and her eyes narrowed. Seconds later, she flung the phone onto the hard surface. "Ew! Is that even humanly possible?"

"Hey!" Callie griped reaching for her phone; nursing it, wiping the sides clean and checking for scratches. "Bitch," she mumbled as her eyes landed on the screen, beginning to read through the colorful text sent to her.

"Ugh. There it is," Cristina grumbled, dropping her head back against the counter as Callie smiled, slinking past her, heading toward the hallway.

"Oh Cristina," Callie leaned back, addressing her roommate, "it's possible. It's _very_ possible. Trust me."

Cristina glanced at Callie, who was grinning vulgarly over her shoulder as she retreated down the hall.

"You're disgusting! And someone not used to your perversion is going to catch you! Just wait Torres!"

"I was thinking about going camping this weekend."

"Yeah," Mark nodded absentmindedly grasping his cell phone tightly as he walked with Derek through the hospital halls.

"The weather's pretty nice."

"Yup," he nodded again, still not giving his companion full attention as they continued toward the lunchroom.

"I haven't gone fishing in a while," Derek spoke, this time eyeing his friend curiously, watching as he beamed when his phone began vibrating (for at least the fourth time since they'd met for lunch).

"Mmmm," Mark moaned loudly, smiling down at his phone, causing Derek's face to contort in confusion, not sure whether the given response was for his statement or the received message.

"We're leaving at four in the morning," Derek added purposefully; while Mark was more than capable of waking up that early, he never did it willingly on his days off.

"Okay," Mark agreed, this time raising his phone as he typed in his own message, grinning mischievously as they maneuvered through gangs of co-workers.

"I'm pregnant."

"Sounds good."

Turning Derek snatched the phone from Mark's hold and stepped out of his reach as he scrolled through the message.

"What the hell Shepherd?" Mark huffed angrily, coming up behind him as he moved to retrieved his phone.

"What are you-" Derek paused mid question, his face turning an awkward shade of red. Without sparing Mark a glance, he handed the device over and blinked slowly before pushing through the cafeteria doors.

Chuckling Mark followed his friend to the small display of pre-made sandwiches and boxed salads. "What? Too much for your virgin eyes Shepherd?"

"Is that what you've been doing this whole time?" He asked, annoyance evident in his tone while dropped a chicken salad and bottled water on his tray.

Inspecting the green apple in his hand, Mark took a bite from it and smiled, "yup."

"That's unprofessional and…disturbing," Derek winced, thinking back to what was thrown across the screen. "You're going to get caught sending those things to each other."

Mark snorted behind him, shaking his head in amusement. After a few seconds, Derek squinted curiously in his friend's direction, tilting his head as he whispered, "Is…was that…I mean is what was described…at all enjoyable?"

Smirking, Mark lifted his tray and cut in front of Derek as they both approached the check out line.

"You bet your ass it is."

"What time is it?" Callie asked, taking a sip of her water as she leaned over to check the clock on Mark's cell phone. Standing she gathered the trash from her meal onto the tray and straightened her scrubs. "I have to go, I've got a meeting with a patient in 15 minutes."

Before turning, Mark grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled her down for a quick peck. Smirking as she complied, he kept his forehead against hers before she was able to step away. Raising an eyebrow, he whispered against her lips, ignoring their friends and other cafeteria occupants.

"Are you going to send that picture you promised?"

"In your dreams Sloan, I am not sending you that."

"Don't be such a prude Torres," he teased, slowly running a hand up the back of her leg. "It would be a really, really good birthday gift. If you do it," he grinned slyly, "I won't ask you to do that other…_thing_."

"What makes you think I'd do that other _thing_ if you asked?"

"Should we go over what you got for your birthday?" Mark questioned, raising an eyebrow as Callie pulled away.

Narrowing her eyes, she picked up the full tray.

"I'll think about it."

Mark stared after her smiling, clutching his chest playfully before turning back to the table. Using the plastic fork in his hand, he stabbed into his bowl of fruit. Chewing happily, he looked around the table and caught the face of each inhabitant.

"What?"

Cristina scoffed and rolled her eyes while she took a drink of her water, Meredith glanced over at her and gave an indifferent shrug, Derek hid a tiny grin and watched as Richard narrowed his eyes and pointed his fork (still holding one of the tomatoes of his salad) in Mark's direction.

"You look happy. Both of you; I like that, it's what we need around here. More happy couples."

"You know me chief, always trying to set a good example," Mark responded with a wink, sending Derek a playful punch to the shoulder.

"Just what we need, more Mark Sloans," Derek grumbled, leaning back against his chair.

"But we could do without the…inappropriate conduct," Richard replied with a cough, disregarding all the other comments that had been made.

"Inappropriate conduct? Chief I can tell you that Callie and I are…"

Before he could finish his sentence, his phone buzzed loudly against the cafeteria table. Mark opened it, read and groaned as his fingers moved to respond.

"You were saying," Derek shook his head in faint delight.

"Isn't that coincidence," Richard looked up at Mark smiling, oblivious to the teasing jabs going between the two other males in attendance. "I've got the exact same phone as you Sloan."

"It's a small world after all." Mark grinned, flipping his phone closed.

"Same color, same style, same everything," Richard laughed, holding the device up to the light, giving it a thorough inspection as he spoke. Placing it back onto the table next to Mark's, he let out another snicker. "That's something."

Mark smiled at him, trying to suppress the larger smirk threatening to surface. Dropping his gaze back to his bowl, he caught the time on his cell phone before it's backlight shut off.

"Shit!"

Jumping from his chair, he dumped all empty containers onto his plastic tray. Pulling it with him, he scurried to the trash and deposited his junk. Rushing back, he quickly slipped his arms through the sleeves of his coat and grabbed one of the cell phones from the table. "Why didn't you remind me I had a consult today Shepherd?"

"What am I your wife?"

"Dream on man," Mark shot back cheekily before turning to the exit.

"Mark I think you might have," Meredith began, but received a kick to the foot from Cristina and a small shake of head the from Derek before the rest of the words left her mouth.

"What?" He turned back toward Meredith.

"Never mind," she called, shifting her eyes between her best friend and husband.

"I don't know about him sometimes," Richard rose from his spot at the table, scrunching his brows as he watched Mark disappear behind cafeteria doors. Collecting his trash, he used his open hand to drop the left behind phone into his pocket. "Well I need to get going too."

The trio nodded their goodbyes and slumped back against their chairs. After a few minutes Meredith picked a carrot stick from her plate and zipped her eyes between smirking Derek and Cristina.

"What was all that about?"

Cristina shot a glace over to Derek and grinned, chortling as she faced Meredith.

"You are going to love this…"

Groaning Mark gently shoved Callie through the entrance of the on-call room, pressing her against the wall as he shut the door with his foot. Chuckling, she ran her fingers through his hair when he kissed her neck and let his hands slide down her body to untie her scrub bottoms. She bit her lip and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow as they dropped, revealing a thin pair of lacy red panties. Wiggling his brows, Mark fell to his knees and took an experimental bite at the edge of the waistband.

Gasping, Callie sunk her head against the wall and moaned, "I'm glad I sent you that picture, the payoff is definitely going to be worth it."

"What picture?" Mark asked, not look up as he tugged the panties down her right hip and ran his tongue along the exposed skin.

"Your picture Mark, the one you've been bugging me for since we started this little thing."

"You took it?" He beamed up at her, rubbing circles on her hip with the tip of his thumb.

"I took it and sent it right before we met up."

"Did you?" Mark looked up pensively, "I never got it."

"You never got it?" Callie looked down at him wide eyed, clutching his soft gray locks, keeping him from furthering his work on her body.

"Nope," he shook his head, "you sure you sent it?"

"I sent it! Shit! Mark it's out there somewhere!" Callie stepped away from the wall in a panic. Yanking her pants up she headed for the door, but Mark took hold of her wrist before she could leave. Twirling her into his arms, he wiped away the loose tendrils of hair surrounding her face and kissed her forehead.

"Stop freaking out about this and relax. What's the worse that could happen?"

Sighing she dropped her head on his chest. Cuddling against him, she laughed. "You're right, what's the worse that can happen?"

Seconds later their pagers went off simultaneously.

"Oh my God!" Callie cried in embarrassment, her entire body flushing as Chief Webber kept his eyes focused on anything but her and shoved Mark's phone across the desk.

Mark had remained completely still through the entire ordeal, successfully hiding the unbearable humor he found in the situation as he moved to return the phone in his lab coat to its rightful owner.

Clearing his throat and fidgeting uncomfortably, Chief Webber finally looked at them and blurted without thought.

"Is that why young people call it a landing strip?"

Eyes widening at his own question, Richard shook his head when he realized that his mouth had worked quicker than his brain by forgoing his prepared reprimand and voicing one of his private thoughts. "No! That's not what I….I meant to say…"

Callie's face dropped in her hands as she released a litany of Spanish curse words.

Eyebrows shooting toward his hairline, Mark stepped through the line of vision between Callie and the Chief.

Waving them out of his office quickly, Chief Webber stuttered uncontrollably.

"I…I just…I…never do it again!"

They never did.


End file.
